‘Do you ever wish you had just one? Um, do you ever wish you had just one LUNG? Beat it, Brenda.’ 10 things people should definitely STOP asking twin parents

“Much like (almost) all breathing, functioning humans, I love Target. There’s just something about 6,000 square feet of colorful merchandise that I don’t actually need that sucks me in like a seagull to a jet engine. It is magical.

Upon the arrival of my twin boys, however, my love for the superstore began to wane. This was due to the fact that I began to wander through the store in the least inconspicuous way possible: either with a double stroller and a cart, or two carts, or now (THANK YA JESUS) one of their new double carts. Needless to say, my rolling circus attracted the attention of every rando in the tampon aisle.

This party on wheels, I’ve found, invites a menagerie of questions about my sons’ multiplicity.

1.) Are they twins?

There are two ways that people ask this question. One is a knowing sort of way, in that they are looking for confirmation before starting down any road of conversation. I totally understand this. The other, however, is one of true confusion – which was especially amusing when they were infants.

Are they twins!?!?!?!

What I want to say: No. They are three weeks apart.

Bless your heart, sweet soul. I have two babies, both 16 pounds, dressed exactly alike, with eerily similar facial features. No, I did not find one in the parking lot.

What I actually say: Yes, they are!

2.) Are they paternal?

What I want to say: Strangely enough, they’re not! Absolutely no sperm were used in the creation of my offspring. Completely father-free.

3.) Are they natural?

This question is especially upsetting to me because it is such a deeply personal and sensitive question. We happened to be doubly blessed with two babies at once. But what about the mothers who have struggled with infertility for years and endured the stress and pain surrounding IVF? Does this make their children any less ‘natural?’ No. Of course not. All children are natural. Any suggestion otherwise is, honestly, awful.

What I want to say: No, they are actually plastic! Can you believe it!?

What I do say: Actually, I don’t. I change the subject and walk away.

4.) Can you tell them apart?

What I want to say: No, unfortunately. I figure they’ve swapped names so many times by now that it’s not really a big deal. Sigh.

5.) I sell ____________ that will help you lose the baby weight and get rid of any nasty stretch marks. Do you want to buy some?

What I want to say: Thank you so much for offering! However, I am currently feeding and sustaining their gigantic little sister with just my boobs, so unless you’re selling Girl Scout Cookies covered in peanut butter and deep fried in brownie batter, kindly take a hike.

As for my stomach, only my husband and a few unlucky friends know what that looks like. For all you know, it could be silky smooth. Or, it could look like it has been mauled by space tigers. Whatever.

What I do say: No thanks.

6.) Can I hold one? (As said individual aggressively moves to unbuckle my child from his seat)

What I want to say: No, strange woman in the freezer foods section, you may not. The state of your fingernails reflects poor hygiene and your collegiate sweatshirt, proudly displaying an SEC football team that shall not be named (but happens to be the arch rival of my alma mater) indicates poor life decisions. Only kidding on that last part. Kind of.

7.) Do you ever wish you had just one?

What I want to say: Um… do you ever wish you had just one lung? Beat it, Brenda.

What I do say: Excuse me, can you pass the tampons?

8.) Do you find yourself attached to one more than the other?

What I want to say: Do you ever find yourself attached to one of your boobs more than the other? That one’s lookin’ a little droopy…

What I do say: I have gas!

9.) How will you pay for college?

What I want to say: The lottery! No, not winning the lottery. We’re going to have a family lottery and whichever kid wins gets a full ride to the school of his choice. Or maybe we’ll do it Hunger Games Style. The other can work at Wendy’s, I guess.

What I do say: Good question!

10.) Yikes. Better me than you!

What I want to say: YEP!

What I do say: YEP!

So there you have it, folks. My life. Disclaimer: this post is just for fun. It is not meant to be negative, or to give the idea that I don’t for one second have anything but a blast being a twin mom!”

This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Eliza Morrill of Momstrosity. It originally appeared on their blog. Submit your own story here, and subscribe to our best stories in our free newsletter here.